


And then the drink takes you

by ManhattanMom



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, alcoholic Thorin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:30:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3457403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManhattanMom/pseuds/ManhattanMom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been more than two years, and Thorin is doing the best he can.</p><p>Bofur complicates things...and then Bilbo complicates them more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So...I am not an addict, so please excuse anything that feels false. Several people near and dear to me suffer from this disease and I became interested in exploring it a bit...
> 
> The tags may change so please keep an eye on them...but the abuse will always be described as a past event. 
> 
> And, just so it's out there at the get-go: this is not shaping up to be a Bagginshield fic. So proceed with caution...?
> 
> Title is from a quote by F. Scott Fitzgerald: 
> 
> First you take a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes you.

The coffee had grown cold and stale before he could bring himself to share.

"My name is Thorin, and I'm an alcoholic."

Everyone murmured their greetings in response, and Thorin tried as best he could to not focus on the tall man sitting about halfway back, because the last thing he needed was another distraction. Everything was difficult enough as it was.

He hadn't even planned on speaking today but his thoughts had begun to wander in less-than-helpful directions and...well, he had learned the hard way, and more than once, that if he was going to actually _come_ to a meeting he'd best stay as focused on it as he could. That was the purpose, wasn't it? Gaining strength through shared experience?  Not to sit and stew in regret and longing and - 

He swallowed hard and then said, "I've been sober for two years, three months and three days. It's been horrible and it's been...magnificent."

The tall man smiled warmly, and something in Thorin's chest squeezed to see it.

"But there is something profoundly comforting," he continued, looking away and focusing on his hands, "in knowing that everything that has happened, everything I've said and heard and felt these past two years, three months and three days - " and that garnered small laughs throughout the crowd - "has been me. Just me. Nothing to smooth out the edges, lessen the sting, water down any part of it. The colors are sharp, the sounds clear..." He smiled a little. "Sometimes too clear." More chuckles from the group and now the tall man was smiling enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes. "And most importantly the feelings are honest. I don't have to question anything. I don't wonder if I'll feel differently in the morning, once I'm sober. Things are...simple. And real."

He cleared his throat.

"So whenever I slow down as I pass the liquor aisle - " More murmurs, and a quick glimpse up caught the tall man nodding slowly - "and whenever my hand itches to grab my sister's glass of wine...and whenever my mind whispers to take just one tiny drink, that I deserve it - "

And now he watched as the tall man covered his eyes with his hand.

He sighed a little.

"I think, I _know,_ that I really deserve so much more than that. And I wait and I breathe and the feeling passes. I suppose that's what I really want to say. Be proud of what you've done, and know the feeling always passes. Thank you."

There was a trickle of applause as he sat, reaching down to where he'd tucked his coffee cup and bringing it up, wincing a bit as he drank deeply.

_terrified shriek and wide green eyes filled with pain and fear arm bent impossibly wrong oh Christ what have I -_

"Good words."

He looked up.

The tall man was standing in front of him, some ridiculous hunting cap on his head.

Surprised, Thorin glanced around, startled to see that the meeting was apparently over. He had been so lost in his thoughts he had not even noticed.

The man smiled at him, and Thorin smiled back.

"Thank you," he replied, rising and stepping out into the aisle. He held out his hand. "Thorin, at your service."

The man grasped it firmly and shook it.

"Bofur, at yours," he said.

*

Thorin found himself attending that 7pm meeting more and more often, even though it was frequently a rush for him to get there in time. His office was downtown and traffic anywhere at that time was dismal, not to mention the fact that he usually worked until 8pm or later.

But whatever the reasons, and he had thus far been careful not to examine them too carefully, he was sliding into a seat near the back just as the meeting was beginning more and more often. He felt awkward grabbing coffee while people were speaking and so had taken a moment to purchase a travel mug from Starbucks (and why he had purchased it himself when he could have easily delegated that task to someone else was anyone's guess but Thorin had always felt incredibly awkward asking the sweet little lad Balin had recently hired to be his assistant to handle personal tasks although that was, in fact, exactly why he had been hired) so he could just bring his coffee from the office.

The tall man, Bofur, was usually already there, and because Thorin was almost always barely on time they never spoke before the meeting, only after. It had been about three weeks and Bofur had neither identified as a newcomer nor shared anything with the group so he was still largely a mystery. But Thorin always looked for him, and tried to sit where he could see him.

The reasons for _that_ remained largely unexamined as well.

*

The phone rang and rang and Thorin was about to hang up when Dori answered.

"Everything all right?" he asked immediately and Thorin's heart warmed.

"Yes, yes," he assured him. "I'm only checking in. I know I have been terrible about that lately."

Dori clucked his tongue and Thorin grinned.

"It's your program, lad," he said, although the slight disapproval and underlying concern were evident in his voice to anyone who knew him well...and Thorin figured he qualified as someone who knew Dori very well. "You work it as you see fit. Though you and I both know things go easier the more engaged you are."

"Yes, you're right," Thorin sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I've just been busy. With work, and Dís and the boys, and - "

"Thorin." Dori's crisp voice cut in. "Forgive me for interrupting but those are all horseshit excuses and you know it. You need to make your recovery a priority, otherwise - "

"Yes, yes, I know, I know," Thorin muttered.

"Otherwise," Dori said loudly right over him, "you'll be right back at square one without so much as a fare-thee-well. And I know you don't want that."

Thorin closed his eyes.

"No," he agreed, as Bilbo's face, shocked and full of pain, rose up. "I don't want that at all."

*

_How are you?_

Thorin sat down heavily in his chair, feeling as if all the air had just been sucked out of his lungs.

The words started to blur and then swim and he belatedly realized he was weeping.

Two years, five months, one week and four days.

Lord, but it felt so much _longer._ And yet impossible it had only been _that_ long.

His hand groped for the box of tissue Ori had purchased and set there at some point, never thinking they would be used for crying.

Why would Thorin Durin cry? He had everything.

_How are you?_

He sighed, a great shuddering intake of breath.

 _I am well._ he tapped out, hesitating with every word. _Work is busy, Dís & boys fine._

He hesitated again.

_Still sober._

Send.

Then before he could think better of it he added -

_You? How are you?_

He set the phone face down and pushed his chair back, rising and crossing to the door.

He opened it with much more force than he'd intended, startling Ori from behind his desk. The lad looked up and quickly rose to his feet as well.

"Mr. Durin?" he asked. "May I help with -

"No," Thorin answered sharply and then regretted it as Ori recoiled a bit. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. "I'm taking a quick walk around the block to clear my head. If anyone calls, just..." He searched for the right words. "I'll be right back. Please take a message."

Ori nodded as Thorin strode past him and out through the glass doors to the elevator. He punched the down button impatiently, wanting nothing more than to race back into his office, grab his phone and see if Bilbo had responded, what he might have said.

He punched the button again.

"Late for something?"

He turned to see Dwalin looking at him, eyebrow raised.

"I - " he began and then stopped. "I just need some fresh air," he finished lamely.

"Ah," said Dwalin.

They stood in silence for a moment and then Dwalin said -

"Gonna ask me how the Febringedrief thing is going?"

Thorin cursed to himself and looked over at his friend again.

"Distracted," he grunted. "Sorry. Any news?"

Dwalin shrugged.

"No need to apologise," he drawled, and Thorin rolled his eyes, bracing himself. "If it were my firm I'd want to know, that's all. But it's not. My firm, I mean. So you just take your little constitutional and when you're ready to hear what we common folk are up to, how our endeavors are lining your pockets, give me a call."

"Dwalin - " Thorinn warned and then the elevator arrived.

They stepped in, Thorin first, and both turned to face the door as it slid shut.

The gentle pings as the elevator moved down was the only sound between them until -

"Or you could send that lovely little bit you've got sitting out front on down to deliver a message," Dwalin said, and Thorin could hear the wicked edge in his voice as the elevator door opened again and they both headed out into the sunshine. "Don't know how you get anything done with _that_ sitting ten feet away, would drive me to - "

He cut off and Thorin was dismayed to realize his eyes were filling with tears. He blinked them back as they both stopped and shook off the hand Dwalin reached out to grasp his arm.

"Thorin, I'm sorry," he began, the wickedness totally gone. "I was only - "

"Don't," Thorin managed, becoming panicked as he recognized how close he was to weeping. "Just...don't." He shot Dwalin a wry smile. "Bad timing," he said. "Just heard from him. For the first time since...since I left."

"Ahh," said Dwalin, and now his face was gentle and full of sympathy. It made Thorin's stomach turn. Sympathy was the last thing he wanted. Even being dead was preferable to sympathy.

He waved his hand absently and they continued walking.

"So I decided I needed to clear my head," he explained and Dwalin nodded sagely, as if he could understand how it felt to finally hear from the one person you would have given anything to hear from for so long, the one person you ever loved and trusted, the one person you hurt so badly they were terrified of you.

As if he could ever comprehend what it felt like to long for forgiveness and yet know you did not deserve it.

He suddenly wished he'd brought his phone so he could call Dori. Dori would know what to do, what to say. Dori could help and if he could not he would listen.

But his goddamn phone was up on his desk, with or without a reply from Bilbo and frankly either possibility was incomprehensible.

He wiped his mouth absently, burning for a drink deep down in his very cells. Just a small one, a whisky maybe, with a coke back, the sweetness of the coke soothing the burn of the whisky...or a glass of red wine, a really dark, spicy one...fuck, even a PBR would taste so -

He needed to call Dori.

Dwalin was still standing there, looking at him, his eyes narrowing slightly, and Thorin realized his face was likely betraying him. Certainly Dwalin knew exactly what Thorin's "drink" face looked like.

He took a deep breath and swallowed hard.

"Would you - " his voice caught a bit in his throat and he swallowed again. "Would you excuse me? I, umm - I just need to..."

"Thorin?"

They both turned and there was Bofur, as if he had been called to them by a higher power.

Thorin almost wanted to hug him.

He smiled and Bofur smiled back.

The burn eased, just a tiny bit. Here was something to focus on besides Bilbo and regret and the sting of alcohol sliding down his throat.

He realized his palms were sweaty.

Dwalin cleared his throat and Thorin snapped into professional mode.

"Dwalin, may I introduce - " he stopped, unsure how to proceed when anonymity was the name of the game.

"Bofur, at your service," Bofur cut in, relieving him of the responsibility.

They shook hands and Thorin's mind spun, testing out and rejecting story after story of how they knew each other.

Once again Bofur came to the rescue.

"Thorin and I live near each other," he explained to Dwalin. "I walk my dog around the same time he runs in the park."

Dwalin relaxed immediately and Thorin was grateful (and amazed) by Bofur's quick thinking and almost providential choice of tall tale.

"Didn't know you'd started back up with that again," he said approvingly to Thorin, clapping him on the back. "Good on you."

Turning to Bofur he said, "He was ran all the time for years - marathons, you name it - but lately..." He trailed off, looking uncomfortable and Bofur shot Thorin a quick, sympathetic look.

Bofur's sympathy was not nearly as taxing or distressing as Dwalin's had been.

"Lately he'd gotten too busy, I suppose, so it's good to hear he's back on it," Dwalin finished lamely, looking uncomfortable and a little guilty. Seeing him so ill at ease made Thorin tired. He knew full well it was his fault Dwalin was so awkward. It wasn't as if he could really be honest and say, "He ran every day, had a marvelous partner who adored him and a life most people dream about except he lost it all because he couldn't crawl out of the bottle long enough to appreciate it."

It just wasn't the kind of thing you said to a stranger.

"Oh aye, nearly every day," Bofur was saying when Thorin pulled himself out of his musings. "I always ask him who's chasing him now, and how far behind they are, and offer to mislead them for him."

Dwalin laughed, a little too loudly, but then the entire conversation was peculiar and awkward so it seemed not terribly out of place.

There was a beat of silence, and then Bofur said, "Well, I don't wish to keep you gentlemen. Thorin, I just saw you from across the street and thought I'd say hello. I hope you're well. See you tomorrow, perhaps?"

Tomorrow was the 7pm meeting.

Thorin nodded.

"Quite possibly," he said. "I'll do my best."

Bofur smiled again and Thorin smiled back.

"See you then, I hope," he said and waved as he walked on.

Thorin glanced over at Dwalin.

The big man was standing with his hands jammed in his trouser pockets, looking a little bemused.

"Friendly fellow," he said, watching Thorin's face. "Good looking, too."

Thorin felt his face flush a little.

"You think?" he demurred and Dwalin snorted.

"Jesus, Durin," he said as he turned to head back inside. "You're just determined to make things as complicated as you can, aren't you?"

 

*

 

By the time he made it back to his desk he felt more relaxed and more centered. Nodding at Ori he walked back into his office, closing the door behind him and easing back down into his chair. He glanced over at his cell phone, the screen still turned face down, and sighed.

He tapped the intercom.

"Ori?"

A slightly nervous voice answered back.

"Yes, sir? What may I help you with?"

Thorin smiled a little, remembering Dwalin's words about young man's appeal.

 _I know something you could definitely help someone with,_ he thought with a smile and then felt a little guilty for having such a thought.

 _Fuck it,_ he decided. _At least that thought's a damn sight more harmless than the ones I was having earlier._

He cleared his throat.

"I need to make a personal call," he now said. "Please don't disturb me until I give you the all-clear."

"Understood, sir," Ori chirped back and, smiling again, Thorin snapped the intercom off.

He sat cracking his knuckles for a moment, stealing glances over at his cell.

Finally, before the urge to check for a message from Bilbo could get the better of him, he picked up the landline and dialed Dori.

 

*

 

"Ri here."

Thorin sighed.

"It's me," he said.

"Ah. Didn't recognize the number."

He sighed again.

"Um...yes, I know." He hesitated and then - "I'm calling from work."

There was a beat and then - "What happened?"

Thorin smiled a little. Dori's bluntness felt like a soothing balm.

"He sent me a text today," he said.

"Bilbo?" asked Dori, the surprise evident in his voice.

Thorin nodded and then realized Dori couldn't see that.

"Mm-hmm," he said, suddenly not trusting himself to say more without his voice breaking.

Dori must have sensed it as well because instead of asking the obvious follow-up question he just said, "I can only imagine how you're feeling now. It's been a long time, and so much has changed for you. And I'm sure he must still care for you, just as you still care for him."

Hot shame surged through Thorin.

"Don't say that," he growled. "How could he possibly...after what I did, how could he even bear to hear my name?  Care for me." He snorted, though it sounded to his ears suspiciously like a sob. "He doesn't care for me."

There was another beat and then Dori said, very carefully, "Then why do you supposed he reached out to you?"

Why, indeed? Bilbo had never been spiteful, had never, even when things had grown so dark and terrible between them, sought to hurt Thorin in any way. If anything, he had become more understanding, more thoughtful, more compassionate the worse the drinking had become. The things he had forgiven...

"I don't know," he said finally. "But it's...very difficult for me to believe it's because he still cares for me."

"Loving someone is not a switch you can flip on and off at will," Dori said, his voice very gentle. "Be a lot easier sometimes if it were, yes? But that's not the way it works. And accepting that is part of making ammends."

There was a pause and then Dori spoke again.

"Is this a good time to remind you that you haven't really tackled that step yet?"

Thorin barked out a laugh.

"There will never be a good time to talk about that with me," he admitted. "Every time I can bring myself to think about it, I'm totally overwhelmed with the... _immensity_ of that task."

"One day at a time, lad," Dori said to him. "One day at a time."

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things progress a bit with Bofur...and they progress a bit with Bilbo, too.

**Step one - We admitted we are powerless over alcohol - that our lives had become unmanageable.**

_It's strange the way your life unravels,_ Thorin thought as he tried to focus on what people were sharing the next night at the meeting. _You know you have a problem, that things are not right, that you are not who you want to be, but you manage and cope and you lie so much and so well that you fool even yourself. Until something happens that is so big no lie could ever match it. Nothing you could ever tell yourself will make it right. It's seismic, and there is no going back._

He forced himself to focus on the man speaking - older, steel grey hair and an enormous hearing aid over his left ear.

"The spiritual part has always been something I've struggled with," he was saying, a little too loudly for the size of the room. "I've never been a religious fellow myself and I have a hard time believing in and trusting something I can't see, can't prove is real. Took me a long time to admit this had all gotten to be more than I could handle alone. And it does say "a higher power", and "the care of God as we understand him", after all. Doesn't have to be an old white man in the clouds." He paused and then said - "After all, I'm living proof that old white men don't know what the fuck they're doing."

That surprised a laugh out of Thorin, and before he could stop himself he looked around to where he knew Bofur was sitting (and no, he did not want to think about the way it had become second nature to check for him as soon as he sat down) and found him looking back, almost grinning. When he caught Thorin's glance he grinned even more widely and offered him a little salute. Thorin smiled back and then looked away, almost blushing.

_What in the world was he doing?_

The general guideline was a year of recovery before you even _thought_ about entering into a new relationship. He had no idea where Bofur was in that process. Hell, he didn't even know if Bofur had the slightest _interest._

_What was he doing?_

_I'm well. glad to hear you are too. give D & boys my love._

It was painful, how simple Bilbo's text response had been. And that word - love. Seeing that word from Bilbo, even if it hadn't been directed toward him...oh, it had made his breath catch in his throat and despair and regret rise up to claw at his heart. He'd thought of sweet words, written in Bilbo's loopy script in a hand-painted card and presented to him with the warmest smile he'd ever seen on their third anniversary.

_I love you. So much. You make every day brighter and full of wonder._

_Until I didn't,_ thought Thorin. _Until I made every day dismal and full of dishonesty and pain. Until this fucking disease ruined your life even more than it was ruining mine._

**We are powerless over alcohol - our lives have become unmanageable.**

Unmanageable. Such a dry, logical word for what had happened.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

He looked up into Bofur's kind eyes.

Once again the meeting had ended and once again Thorin's mind had been elsewhere. He took one last swig of coffee and rose, holding out his hand. Bofur grasped it and they shook, smiling at each other.

"I'm afraid you'd be overpaying," Thorin joked. "I'm sure my thoughts aren't worth much to anyone but me."

Bofur squeezed his hand and then dropped it, smiling widely. "Well, now," he said. "Hard for me to judge unti I hear them. Care to join me for dinner?"

_Not a good idea, I'm feeling too much and I still feel so much for another but he will never - and you're so...not a good -_

"I'd love to," said Thorin.

*

They sat at a small diner Bofur had suggested not far from where the meeting had been, but Bofur had assured him it was far enough that there would be no one else from the meeting there. He'd been right about that. In fact, there was hardly anyone at all there, which would normally have concerned Thorin, but then he realized an empty diner at 8:30pm on a Tuesday night was hardly a cause for alarm. And the food had been remarkably good.

Each was nursing another cup of coffee as they regarded each other.

Thorin was not sure how to proceed. He'd learned the other man was a high school shop teacher and that he lived fairly nearby, and indeed he seemed to be a regular at the diner and a well-liked one at that. He was easy to like, that was certain. His manner was gentle and kind, and he had a smile for everyone. He listened as if nothing was more important to him than what you were saying right there and then, and Thorin envied him that singular focus. He often felt as if his own thoughts were as slippery as fish, sliding away as he grasped them.

And it didn't hurt that he was very attractive. Not one bit. Tall and broad in the shoulders but lean, very strong looking. He had a long mustache which would have seemed almost bizarrre on anyone else but on him felt...perfect. His hair was long too, kept neatly tied back in a long, dark braid. His eyes were very dark but very warm and his hands... Oh, his hands...

Thorin very nearly shook his head in an effort to stop thinking about them.

"So I've bored you enough with my work," Bofur was saying cheerfully. "You haven't yet mentioned what it is that you do."

Inside, Thorin grimaced.

"I, umm..." he began. "I...own...ah." He paused and cleared his throat. "I own Erebor Corporation."

Bofur's eyebrows shot up. "You _own_ it?" he asked, with an air of incomprehension.

Thorin was suddenly miserable, as if he had inadvertently killed a tiny bird he had only wanted to help. He looked down at his hands grasping the coffee mug far too tightly and focused on making them relax.

"Yeah," he said finally. "I own it. I inherited it from...from my father. Who inherited it from his father. Family business and all that." He smiled self-consciously. "And no, we did not have a very good reputation for...quite a while." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. That was putting it mildly. After Thror's drinking had led his decision to cheat his partners, and his father's drinking had nearly bankrupted them and destroyed whatever good will had remained, Thorin had taken the reins...only to come perilously close to finishing the job of ruining their family himself. And then the horror with Bilbo had happened and wasn't it true, that saying about silver linings?

"I've, um...since the program I've been able to...stem the flow of blood, as it were," he said now and Bofur nodded slowly. "It's...not been easy," and he threw Bofur a rueful smile and did not think at all about the warm one he received in response. "And success is by no means assured." He took a deep breath. "But at least I'm...present? And clear. I can actually make appropriate decisions and that is already a vast improvement on things. From the last twenty years or so, I mean."

Bofur leaned back in his seat and shook his head. "I'm not sure what to say," he admitted. "Can't even imagine attempting sobriety while trying to run a...a _corporation._  Jesus!" He laughed a little. "As if things aren't difficult enough! You had to - _still_ have to, I suppose - concern yourself with the fate of so many other people."

Thorin waved his hand a bit, feeling uncomfortable. "It's no different than what any of us have to handle," he said a bit briskly. "Life doesn't stop just because it would be more convenient that way."

Bofur snorted. "True, true," he allowed, "but it still seems as if the level of your responsibility goes a bit beyond what most of us have to deal with."

"Well..." Thorin said and then looked down at his hands again. This was why he had resisted making friends with anyone at the meetings. Once the scope of his life was introduced into the conversation it was impossible for people to see him the same way. And he craved the anonymity in the same way he'd craved the booze.

"Don't be fooled by the title, or the money," he said, struggling mightily not to appear hostile or angry. He was neither, only frustrated.

And lonely.

He looked up and met Bofur's eyes.

"I'm a drunk, and an addict," he said as calmly as he could. "The same as everyone else in the program."

Bofur was silent, and Thorin waited, once again squeezing his coffee mug too tightly.

**Step two - We came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.**

_Please,_ Thorin prayed. _I don't even know quite what I believe or to whom I'm praying. I'm not even sure what I want. Just...please._

Finally Bofur smiled widely and something in Thorin's chest loosened.

"It's remarkable how that serves as the great equalizer, isn't it?" he grinned and Thorin smiled back.

_What am I doing?_

He pushed that thought away. Hard.

*

Later that night he grew painfully hard thinking of Bofur's dark, almost dreamy eyes and he tugged himself off, imagining those powerful, thick hands wrapped around his erection and those soft full lips pressed against his...and then drifting lower... He groaned as his hand moved faster and his breath quickened. It was the image of Bofur's eyes, now almost black with heat, looking up at him as his mouth stretched around Thorin's length that finally tipped him over the edge. He came in thick, white stripes across his abdomen with a heavy groan, and then curled up in a ball and sobbed until he finally fell asleep.

*

**Step three - Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.**

Thorin sighed as he sat in traffic, everything proceeding at a crawl. It was his own fault. He knew by now if he tried for the 8am meeting it inevitably put him in the heart of the morning commute. But he'd been feeling the need to go to meetings more regularly in the last two weeks and that was an instinct he wanted to listen to.

Because in truth what he really wanted was a beer. Nothing fancy. Just a plain beer.

And the clarity and strength of that desire terrified him.

So he attended meetings almost daily, and spoke with Dori almost daily, and tried to ride out this...whatever it was. He and Bofur had met for dinner after the 7pm meeting again, and again Thorin had masterbated to thoughts of the schoolteacher's hands on him, squeezing, pulling, caressing. And again he had fallen asleep with tears drying on his cheeks.

He still had no idea how long Bofur had been in recovery. Bofur hadn't offered and Thorin felt strange just asking.

His phone jangled suddenly, startling him out of his thoughts. He saw it was Dwalin and punched the appropriate button on the steering wheel.

"Just checking to see if you were planning on joining us today," came Dwalin's smooth, lazy voice, rendered a little tinny through the car speakers. "Because it's, you know, almost 10:30 and you haven't seen fit to grace us with your presence today. And you hadn't told Ori you weren't coming in..."

Thorin smiled.

"So you've finally spoken with Ori, then?" he asked teasingly. "Did your ugly mug turn him to stone right away or did it take a few moments?"

Dwalin snorted and replied, "Jealousy is unbecoming, Durin. You know you'd give a lot for a piece of this."

Thorin laughed out loud at that.

"So right away, then," he said and Dwalin began laughing as well.

"I did my best to dial down my charisma so as not to frighten him," Dwalin added. "Didn't want my brother to have to worry about finding you yet another replacement."

Thorin laughed again.

"Yes, please - let's not annoy Ori," he agreed. "He's hands down the best of the bunch and I'd like to keep him on for longer than twenty-three seconds, please and thank you."

"Why do you say that as if the others were my fault?" came Dwalin's retort and Thorin groaned.

"Did you call for a purpose other than checking on me?" he asked. "Yes, I'm on my way. I was delayed and now I'm caught in traffic."

"Ah," said Dwalin and Thorin knew he'd put it together. "No, no other reason, really. Although I did want to run a couple things by you. But it can wait till you get here."

"Good," said Thorin. "I'll come find you then."

"Sterling," said Dwalin and hung up.

Thorin tapped the steering wheel again to disconnect the bluetooth and focused on moving with the traffic.

*

"It's been far too long, Thorin. The boys are driving me wild asking about you."

Thorin pulled his reading glasses off (reluctantly purchased only after Balin had insisted) and rubbed his eyes.

"Thorin?"

"I'm here, I'm here," he said wearily. "I would love to see you all, you know that. Things have just been - "

"Thorin Durin, if you tell me you are too busy to see your sister and nephews after nearly three months I will reach through this phone and slap you."

He laughed a little.

"Please don't," he said. "Life is doing plenty of that for you."

Her tone was immediately contrite.

"Oh, Thorin - I'm sorry," she said now and he felt a little guilty. "Would it help to talk about it? What's been going on? I know Balin has been wanting you to delegate more, have you taken his advice?"  

"Dis, Dis," he said soothingly, feeling exhausted and yet touched by her concern. "Everything is fine. With Erebor, I mean. Good, even. It's not the company. It's - " He paused, not sure how much to share over the telephone at work. Or ever. "It's...all the other things," he said finally and winced when she drew in a quick breath. "Things are all right, I'm not drinking..."

"But you want to," she said.

His patience frayed a little. "I want to all the time!" he said, more angrily than he'd intended. "It's not something that goes away. Every day, every hour - I want to and I make a choice not to. It gets...tiring."

She was silent and he sat and listened to her breathe, waiting for her to speak again so he would know what course this was all going to take. "I'm sorry," she said again, and he didn't know what to say to that. He knew he should apologize for barking at her but he didn't want to. It _was_ tiring, and maybe it was better that she really understand that.

And then he felt badly.

"No, no - I shouldn't have been so harsh," he muttered. "And I do want to see you all." He glanced down at the old-fashioned desk blotter calendar he'd refused to replace. "What about Sunday afternoon, like 1ish?" There was a meeting he could hit before that to gird himself a bit. He loved his sister and his nephews dearly but after such an extended absence he knew he was likely to be overwhelmed by their exuberance very quickly.

"That would be perfect," she said warmly. "I can cook for us. And no, before you even ask - don't bring anything. Just come. The boys will be so thrilled to see you."

"Not you, though?" he teased and she laughed. He felt himself relax into the sound of it.

"Me too, silly," she said kindly. "Me too."

*

_Checking in again. All still well?_

Thorin stared at the message, his thoughts completely jumbled.

_Why...?_

He raked his hands through his hair and rose, pacing about his office, agitated and utterly out of sorts.

_What does he want from me?_ he wondered helplessly. _And what do I want from him?_

_What do I want from him?_

He approached his phone cautiously, as if it could bite. The words glowed up at him, confusing and exhilarating him.

He wanted...oh, he wanted so much. And the fact that Bilbo likely did not have any interest in any of that, that he was probably only being friendly and kind and supportive, as he had always been...well. It was almost too much to bear.

He sat and picked up the phone.

_Yes,_ he tapped back. _Still well._

He hesitated and then wrote: _good of you to ask._

More hesitation and then before he could think better of it -

_Means a great deal._

_Send._

Turning the phone upside down again he leaned back in his chair and swiveled around to look out the massive windows.

The city stretched out before him, mountains on one side, the ocean on the other and heat shimmering in every direction. He had been born here, and despite thoroughly enjoying his time out east, there had never been any question in his mind that he would come back some day. It had been expected of him, and it had been what he wanted.

_How many of our problems could be traced back to this city?_ he wondered idly. _The whole place runs on dreams, and on promises - things just out of reach but that seems so close. Maybe someplace more harsh would have served us better, would have made it harder for this disease that haunts us all to sink its teeth in so deeply._

He sighed.

Or maybe it wouldn't have mattered. As he'd said to Bofur, a drunk was a drunk, no matter the trappings.

His phone buzzed. He flipped it over and read _Means a great deal to me that you're well._

His eyes filled with tears and he blinked them away before they could fall.

_Will there ever come a time,_ he mused, _when the thought of him and what I fucked up won't break my heart?_

He looked out the window again but the city, vast and almost beautiful, didn't have an answer for him.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Bofur spend the night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I'm not sure what happened here. This got away from me a little bit, lol! I went to go fill in a few moments and then...this. Yeah.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

That night was the 7pm meeting and he went hoping to see Bofur.

He was not disappointed.

Chatting amiably with a tall, thin woman with red hair Bofur stood in the back of the room, across from the doorway, smiling that warm, wide smile and brushing the hair off his forehead.

Thorin relaxed immediately, seeing him.

_Dwalin is right,_ he thought ruefully. _I seem bent on making all this as complicated as I can._

He headed over and was far too pleased when Bofur lit up after catching sight of him. "Hey, there!" he greeted and they shook hands, Bofur going so far this time as to clasp Thorin's arm too. "Good to see you, Thorin. Do you know Tauriel?"

He indicated the woman next to him who nodded shyly and said, "Good to meet you, Thorin."

He smiled. "You too. Welcome."

"Newcomer," Bofur added and Tauriel looked away, blushing a little.

"I, umm..." she began, looking rather endearingly awkward, but Thorin gently interrupted.

"Just remember, every single one of us here has been where you are," he said and she nodded, still not looking at him. "And the first thirty days are the hardest."

"Brutal," Bofur added and he looked as serious as Thorin had ever seen him. "But the good thing about hitting the bottom is there's nowhere to go but up." He looked over at Thorin then and Thorin felt his spine tingle.

"Wouldn't you agree?" he asked Thorin as he smiled slowly.

Thorin felt himself smile back.

"Absolutely," he said.

*

That night they did not go to the diner.

Thorin instead followed Bofur to his apartment, parking on the street and meeting the other man in the lobby of his building. Then Bofur led him up the stairs to the third floor and unlocked the door, ushering Thorin in and locking the door behind them.

Thorin looked around at the small but very tidy apartment and accepted the hanger Bofur offered him, pulling his suit coat off, removing his shoes and rolling his sleeves up, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and awkward.

They stood in the foyer regarding each other for a moment.

Then Bofur grinned and said, "It's been a very long time since I've tried any of this sober."

Thorin laughed. "I'm embarrassed to say I don't even remember the last time I was sober for, umm...this sort of thing," he finished after a moment.

Bofur only grinned more widely. "Good!" he said. "So it will be a 'blind leading the blind' sort of situation. Thank God! Was worried I would look a thousand time the fool."

Reaching out to brush his hand against the other man's cheek, Thorin said quietly, "I would never think you a fool, believe me. Unless you count inviting me over in the first place."

Bofur sighed and closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall and pulling Thorin toward him.

"Still can't believe you agreed to come," he murmured and then they were kissing.

Thorin still felt awkward, but he also felt heady and lustful.  The other man's scent, the hardness of his body, were glorious, and it had been _so long._ So long since Bilbo, and longer still since that had been good and right. Bofur's hands felt as if they were everywhere and Thorin dropped his mouth hungrily to the other's neck, sucking and nibbling and then, when the sounds Bofur was making threatened to drive him totally mad, even biting.

The moan _that_ particular action caused had Thorin pulling away and almost growling, "Bedroom? Where's your bedroom?"

Inordinately pleased that Bofur looked as wrecked as he himself felt he leaned in to flick his tongue against Bofur's ear, thrilling at the way it made the other man shiver. "I mean, excuse me, kind sir - where's your bedroom?" he whispered, grasping Bofur's hand and tugging him forward.

Bofur pulled back and, startled, Thorin found himself suddenly encased in very strong, fairly hairy arms. He looked into Bofur's dark eyes, even darker now with his wide pupils, and understood the concept of one's knees feeling weak.

Bofur mouthed along his throat and when he reached Thorin's ear he murmured, "Don't call me ‘sir’. I work for a living."

Thorin burst out laughing as Bofur winked at him and, taking his hand, led him to the bedroom.

*

It was magnificent. Slow and sensual and everything that Thorin had been missing and longing for.

Bofur’s bed was king-sized, and Thorin discovered just how firm the mattress was when Bofur practically tossed him onto it. He landed on his back and then drew himself up onto his elbows to watch as the other man pulled his shirt over his head and then shook his hair out of the loose ponytail he’d worn for the meeting. Thorin’s mouth went dry as his eyes raked over lean, hard muscle covered with a coarse dusting of black hair.

He reached up with trembling hands and started to unbutton his own shirt.

And suddenly there were strong, calloused hands working alongside his.

Thorin blinked and smiled. “Didn’t think I’d taken my eyes off you,” he murmured. “Certainly wasn’t intentional. Hello there.”

Bofur smiled and sat on the bed, leaning in to brush his nose against Thorin’s. “Like what you see then?” he asked a little shyly and Thorin snorted.

“You’re like the Marlborough Man,” he said, his hand moving up and down Bofur’s arm. “Lean and taut and so strong looking…” he trailed off, his eyes following his hand. He was brought back to the moment when he looked up to meet Bofur's eyes and found them squeezed shut. He leaned in to rest their foreheads together. 

“Everything all right?” he asked quietly. “We don’t...sorry, I just assumed and I - “

“Fine,” Bofur broke in, opening his eyes and looking straight at Thorin. “M’fine. Just...demons, you know?"  

Thorin nodded slowly as Bofur continued.  "And I want this badly so don’t worry about that. If I’d put out stronger signals I would have lit the block on fire. You didn’t misunderstand, don’t worry.”

Thorin laughed a little and pressed a kiss against Bofur’s temple. “Good,” he said. “Would hate to think I was _that_ rusty.”

They kissed for a few moments, and Thorin tried to convey every bit of longing he was feeling. The kisses grew more heated and more passionate, Bofur’s tongue claiming the inside of Thorin’s mouth so thoroughly Thorin could only moan in response.

The feel of the other man’s skin, hot and rough, had Thorin nearly senseless before long and he reached down between them to grasp Bofur’s cock through his jeans, sighing as he felt how hard it was and sighing again when Bofur gasped a bit and then thrust up into his palm.

“Jesus, Thorin,” he gritted out and Thorin hummed in response. “That’s...oh, god - that’s - “

“Yes,” Thorin said. “Yes.”

He began fumbling with the zipper of Bofur’s jeans, suddenly wild to feel him more closely, when Bofur gripped his hand, stopping him, although he continued to rut against Thorin’s hand slowly, so slowly.

“I...” he started and then shuddered a little. Thorin pressed a gentle kiss on his neck, lingering for a moment to just smell him. He smelled so _damn good,_ so musky and warm, it made Thorin a little lightheaded.

He moved the hand Bofur was holding just a bit, testing things.

There was a little less resistance.

He pulled back and again looked in Bofur’s eyes, relieved to find them open this time and looking back at him, with all the desire he could feel thrumming in his blood reflected back at him.

“I don’t care - “ he got out and Bofur stopped him.

“I haven’t felt so turned on but so...so _jumpy_ since I was fourteen,” he admitted with a tiny smile. “I am quite literally afraid I’m going to come the minute you touch me and I don’t -“

Smiling, Thorin leaned in again to run his tongue lightly up Bofur’s neck, feeling the cords there tighten a little as Bofur swallowed hard. “We can slow down as much as you like,” he whispered, “But just think - if you come too fast, well...it just means we’ll have to try again, right?”

Bofur snorted. “How is it I’m about to explode and _you_...you seem very...I don’t know…”

And then Bofur dipped his head and worried at Thorin’s nipple a bit with his teeth, teasing it with his tongue.

Growling, Thorin arched his back and tangled his hand in Bofur’s hair _(all that hair!)_ , gently but firmly pulling the other man up and kissing him soundly.

“You were saying?” he asked gruffly and they both laughed a little.

“There we go,” said Bofur, clearly pleased. He ran a finger along Thorin's jawline as he added, “I mean, Jesus! Was beginning to think I’d lost whatever used to pass for moves back in the day."

Thorin kissed him again - hard - and then reached down between them once more, keeping his eyes on Bofur’s as he popped the button on the other’s waistband and slid the zipper down slowly.

They stayed looking at each other as Thorin reached his hand in again and felt Bofur’s cock through the cotton of his shorts, squeezing just a little, relishing the way the pressure made Bofur’s eyes roll back in his head and his breath catch. He squeezed again and began to try to shimmy the trousers off entirely, his mouth watering just a little bit.

_Dear lord,_ he thought dazedly. _It_ has _been a long time. He’s not the only one worried about this ending too soon._

Bofur obliged by dropping back onto the bed and lifting his hips a little, kicking off each pant leg as Thorin tugged it down.

And then there he was, naked except for his underwear, his erection evident and urgent. Thorin knelt down between his legs and nudged them wider, rubbing the muscles in Bofur’s thighs gently, almost absently.

“Where are…” His voice trailed off, not quite sure why he was being so coy.

Bofur’s face was confused for a moment and then his expression cleared and his smile was bashful and radiant. “The nightstand behind you,” he said, gesturing with his chin a little.

Thorin reached out and pulled the drawer open, feeling around but keeping his eyes on Bofur, utterly charmed by his blushing.

Bofur caught his gaze and wrinkled his nose. “Yes, yes - I know. It’s as if I really _am_ fourteen,” he muttered and Thorin grinned. “Told you it had been a long time.”

“Don’t worry,” Thorin assured him as he plucked a condom out and set it on the bed beside them. “You’re about to see my hands shake pretty clearly.”

“Because…” Bofur prompted, his blush darkening.

“Because I’m as nervous as I’ve ever been,” Thorin admitted and Bofur’s face was so open and kind it was almost hard to look at. “But I also want this, want _you_ , so badly, and I can’t believe you want me too.”

“Thorin - “ Bofur got out before Thorin hurried over him.

“So I’m not going to question anything,” he said, ripping the condom open and rolling it carefully over Bofur’s weeping length, enjoying the opportunity to hold, to feel, to admire. “I’m just going to thank my lucky stars I’m here and I’m going to try to give you what I think you deserve.”

Bofur groaned loudly and squeezed his eyes shut. “Ahh, Thorin - “

“So you just keep those sounds coming,” Thorin said, smiling a little as he pressed kisses up Bofur’s bare legs. “They definitely heighten the mood.”

“You’re a shit, Durin,” Bofur muttered, moaning a little as Thorin nudged his leaking cock with his nose gently, breathing hotly through the fabric.

“Such language, Mr. Broadbeam,” said Thorin innocently, his hands squeezing and gripping as he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of Bofur’s boxers and worked them down, tossing them onto the floor.

“Ahhhh, fuck! Thorin!”

“Yes, please,” said Thorin and then he bent down and took Bofur in his mouth.

The other man’s chants and cries almost faded into the background as Thorin sucked, his cheeks hollowing out and his head bobbing up and down. He felt so...thrilled, as if every bit of Bofur’s pleasure was seeping into his own skin, into his own heart, feeding the pleasure he was already feeling and stoking it to near-volcanic levels. Every taste, every smell felt crisp and sharp and he slowed down for a moment to savor, to really _feel_ what was happening, what he was doing, for once not so caught up in chasing the finish so he could roll over and sleep off whatever he’d been drinking.

It felt _real._

He gripped Bofur’s hip with one hand, steadying him, while using the other to reach under, to lightly brush between Bofur’s cheeks, at the opening there, and felt a hot surge of satisfaction and lust when Bofur nearly leapt off the bed.

He switched hands and stopped for a moment, letting Bofur’s cock slip from between his lips and thoroughly enjoying how completely devastated the man looked - hair wild, eyes hot, swollen lips caught between his teeth. Waiting until he was sure Bofur was watching and paying attention, he slowly drew one of his own fingers into his mouth to wet it.

“Thorin…” Bofur whispered.

Thorin leaned in, taking Bofur’s cock into his mouth, feeling momentarily disconcerted by how _right_ it felt there, and he began to lightly stroke Bofur’s entrance with his wet finger, lightly, so lightly, only dipping the very tip of it in, ever so slightly. That earned him a long, extended moan and then suddenly he couldn’t wait any longer.

He slid Bofur’s cock out of his mouth again and said hoarsely, “Turn over. Please.”

“What - “ Bofur croaked, and Thorin smiled a bit, rubbing his hand up and down the other’s thigh.

“Please,” he said again and Bofur did.

“Whyyy,” he practically whined, ”are your pants still on?”

Thorin knelt behind him and said, “All in good time.”

He reached under and lifted Bofur’s hips up, caressing his backside tenderly before leaning in to mouth kisses up and and down the knobs of his spine, his mouth lingering at Bofur’s tailbone, tongue dipping into the cleft that began there, his hands gently dispelling Bofur’s protests that he hadn’t showered since the morning, didn’t Thorin want to - want to _wait,_ until -

“Oh, God,” came Bofur’s muffled voice and Thorin grinned as he licked down and flicked his tongue against the tight hole, running it around and around and absolutely delighting in the way it was making Bofur squirm and writhe, the way it was making him sound, _Jesus!_   Those sounds...everything was so _alive,_ every fiber in his being was thrumming.

“Ahh, ahh, ahh,” Bofur was wailing, rhythmically and loudly and Thorin could barely remember ever being so turned on before, could barely remember his own name or anything at all beyond the feeling of his tongue pushing in and out of Bofur, curling and licking and Christ! Had he ever been so _present_ before?  Was _this_ the way it was supposed to always be?

He brought his hand around to Bofur’s cock, heavy and leaking, and quickly, by feel, he rolled the condom off and then groaned into Bofur and grinned to hear him groan at the way that felt, as their bare flesh met and Thorin began to stroke in time with his penetrations.

And then suddenly his own orgasm came roaring out of seemingly nowhere, his vision sparking and then whiting out, his body electrified with the force of it, with the sheer strength and power and clarity of every cell shrieking together in some kind of weird and wild harmony.

He gasped and squeezed Bofur last time and felt the pulsing heat of the other man’s seed on his hand, warming it beyond measure.

He leaned back onto his heels and laughed a little, tremendously overwhelmed and so so glorious too.

Perfect. He was...perfect.

Bofur swiveled over and, breathing heavily, raised up on his knees and grasped Thorin around the neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Wait!” Thorin protested without thought. “I just had my mouth - “

“Don’t fucking care,” Bofur rasped and they kissed then, deeply and with an abandon that left Thorin gasping. It wasn’t until Bofur started laughing that Thorin finally came back to himself a bit. When he looked at him questioningly Bofur indicated Thorin’s crotch, and Thorin looked down himself to see a large wet spot blooming there.

“Told you to take those off,” Bofur said smugly.

*

And while his pants were in the wash Bofur demonstrated rather brilliantly that payback can be, as they say, a bitch.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.
> 
> A discussion, and a revelation as Thorin struggles to be honest with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while!! I had to add several bits to what was already written a while back and those bits took forever to get right...hopefully I managed it! lol

Afterwards they lounged side by side, Bofur curled up under Thorin’s outstretched arm.

_How long has it been since I’ve felt so...peaceful?_   Thorin mused. _And this...us...perfect. Slotted together like spoons in a drawer. All I’ve ever wanted - to be content with someone, a good man, someone who -_

_Bilbo_

His lovely musings were interrupted - not by the smiling, cheerful face he’d fallen so very hard for, but by the terrified, frantic visage he’d worn the last time Thorin had actually seen him.

He shuddered and felt tears prick his closed eyelids. Sighing, he slid his hand out from under Bofur’s head and rolled over, sitting up and rubbing his face.

_There is never any way to escape it,_ he thought. _That night is as much a part of me as the color of my eyes. And it will always come between me and everything good and right._

_And that is likely as it should be. Only what I deserve._

He shuddered again and realized he was perilously close to weeping; but before he could stand and find privacy in the bathroom he felt Bofur’s hand, wide and firm, on his back.

“Are those thoughts worth a penny now?” he heard the other man ask. “Because they certainly seem to be. If they were any heavier you’d be squashed down into the bed.”

Thorin huffed and reached back to grasp Bofur’s hand, twisting back so he could press a kiss on its palm.

“They’re likely worth a bit more right at the moment,” he said, forcing a smile and kissing Bofur’s hand again. “Considering what we’ve just been up to.”

Bofur snorted and said, “Nice try, but I’d rather not believe you were thinking of all that while looking so damn...defeated. So be a good boy and lie to me, if thoughts of us really _are_ what’s making you nearly cry.”

That made Thorin’s throat close with emotion and he lay back down, head resting on Bofur’s chest, taking comfort in hearing his heart beat steadily and the way Bofur’s hand stroked his back, slowly and softly.

**Step four - Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.**

He waited a bit until he could be sure his voice wouldn’t break and then he said, “I was thinking about my ex, if I’m being totally honest.”

He felt Bofur freeze beneath him for a beat and he ran his hands soothingly over the broad, furred chest, placing a kiss near one nipple gently.

“It’s not like it sounds,” he said. “And trust me, I know exactly how it sounds.”

Bofur hesitated another moment and then resumed his leisurely strokes.

“All right, then,” he said with what Thorin recognized as a forced calm, “Can you tell me what it _is_ like, then?”

_The most terrible thing of all,_ thought Thorin as he basked in one final moment of relative joy and peace, _is knowing no matter where I go and what I do, my ugly truth is always there waiting for me._

*

**Step five: Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.**

“You...broke his arm.”

They were sitting up in the bed, backs against the fabric headboard, naked and not looking at each other.

Thorin focused on a painting across the room of green grass and purple flowers, with sweeps of oil paint so thick they rose off the canvas.

He nodded.

“Fractured his forearm,” he said hoarsely. “Both bones. We were arguing and he...he tried to leave so that I could cool down. And, umm…” He paused and sighed heavily, scrubbing at his face with his hand. “I, uh...I grabbed him by the throat and...knocked him into the wall and then, when he pushed my hands away I grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving and I…” He swallowed heavily.

_A searching and fearless moral inventory._

_The exact nature of our wrongs._

“I pulled him. Pulled him back toward me,” he said miserably. “And I heard the break. It was...like a gunshot.”

Bofur sat silently, listening.

“I let go immediately, of course,” he said. “But the damage was already done.”

He cleared his throat.

“We had been arguing because I had accused him of cheating,” he said. “I was absolutely convinced, in that way you are when you’ve had far too much to drink. And I confronted him and he denied it, obviously, because the last thing he would ever do - “ He stopped and corrected himself. “ _Would have_ ever done was be unfaithful.” He laughed bitterly. “If anything, he grew more supportive the worse I got. And I simply couldn’t believe...I knew there was no way - “

“You felt you were unworthy of love,” Bofur said quietly. “Couldn’t believe he could love you despite everything so you figured out what you needed to do to get him to leave. Because you never would have been able to leave yourself.”

Thorin gasped and it felt as if his throat was on fire.

“How do you - “ he started and Bofur gave him a small smile, the first since the subject of Bilbo had come up.

“Did you think you were the first drunk to ever break someone’s heart?” he asked sadly.

*

Later, when they had kissed a bit more, and even laughed a little (impossible as that had seemed after what he had shared), Thorin knew it was time. As badly as he wanted to stay, it still felt...early, too fresh and fragile, and clutching too hard would only leave him with a handful of dust.

And he didn’t feel...clear. He felt overwhelmed and lusty and heady but not... _clear_.

And that was dangerous.

“So...is this something you think you’d...ummm - “

Thorin looked up from where he was sitting on the bed, buttoning his shirt.

The other man was leaning against the doorframe, dressed in his boxers and his tshirt, hair still loose around his shoulders and looking as uncertain as Thorin had ever seen him.

He waited but Bofur didn’t continue.

“Something I’d like to…?” he prompted softly, turning to face Bofur fully.

Bofur brushed his hair out of his eyes and laughed self-consciously as his eyes flicked around the room, never meeting Thorin’s.

“I don’t know, um - like to.... _continue_ with, I guess I’m saying? Asking?” he said awkwardly as he fidgeted and crossed his arms defensively.

Thorin smiled a little.

“Is this a fuck-and-run, you mean?” he asked.

Bofur barked out a laugh and finally looked at Thorin in the eye.

“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” he admitted. “Because in case I haven’t made it clear yet, I’m an virginal teenager with self-confidence issues. It’s lovely to meet you.”

Thorin laughed then too, and then they were both laughing, hard, and Thorin couldn’t speak for Bofur but it felt as good as anything he could remember to laugh like that.

He stood up and moved to where Bofur was leaning and reached out to draw their foreheads together, rubbing his thumb against the nape of Bofur’s neck and smelling his freshly-brushed breath.

“I’m way too old to fuck-and-run,” he murmured, “especially someone from the program who leaves me fairly breathless. Got it?”

“Got it,” whispered Bofur and then they were kissing again.

And another hour or so later Thorin finally left.

*

One good thing about driving in the middle of the night was it was basically the only time there was no traffic. So a five mile drive actually took you about ten minutes instead of upwards of an hour.

His mind buzzed pleasantly as he drove, singing along to the Indigo Girls (or "vagina music" as Dwalin called it) and enjoying the cool air through the open passenger window.

_Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves._

He hadn’t really done that, had he? It had been a noble effort, but he had not been entirely honest with Bofur. How could he be?  Christ, he could barely be honest with himself. Telling him about...what had happened was, while not easy, was at least more straightforward.  There was nothing complicated about what he had done.

But...his _feelings_...and how Bilbo had been in touch after all this time, after _nothing_ for so long…

Thorin sighed as he pulled off the highway and waited at the light.

He watched a couple embracing in the parking lot of a restaurant, one he knew had a bar because he’d been in once and the bar was just too...too _everything_ and he’d never gone back in after that. Most places had bars, of course, but some were just so achingly familiar, so inviting and safe-seeming that he would mentally salt the earth of their locations in his mind and never go back -

And here he was again, falling down rabbit holes instead of confronting what he held in his heart.

What _did_ he hold in his heart?

_So much_ , he thought to himself as he turned left and heading home. _So, so much._

*

His sleep was uneven, and his dreams filled with confusion.

*

The next morning he woke to a text from Bofur.

_Assume you got home safely...?_

He smiled and wrote back - _I did.  Sorry.  Should have let you know._

He watched as the little dots swirled and waited for the response.

_You're forgiven.  This time._

Then - 

_Twat_

Laughing, Thorin tapped back - 

_That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time._

A pause, and then the response -

_LOL_

More swirling dots and -

_Well, we should change that.  But I'd rather do it in person._

Thorin felt his cheeks warm just a little and he wrote back -

_Agreed._

He headed into the bathroom to brush his teeth and after a few moments heard his phone beep.  Smiling to himself, he spit out the toothpaste, rinsed and walked back into the kitchen.

_Forgotten how much fun this could be_ , he thought to himself as he reached for the phone.

_Good morning!  Just wanted to say hello._

He froze.

_Ohhh..._

His already raw heart burst and he sighed and sat down hard, his head dropping into his hands.

_Why now?  When I might finally be moving on?_

_Oh, Bilbo._

 

He hesitated and then wrote, _Good morning to you.  Good to hear from you._

Send.

_Hope you have a good day_ came the response.

He sighed and then sat looking out his kitchen window for a long time.

*

"You like him."

Thorin squirmed a bit and switched the phone to his other ear.

"Dori," he admonished. "I'm only getting to know him. It's been, what? Three months total? And last night was the first..." He trailed off and felt his face heat up and then felt like a complete ass for being shy with _Dori_ , of all people.

Dori laughed a little.

“And how did it all go?” he asked, a little teasingly but with an undercurrent of seriousness. “S’been a while, yes? Remember where all the bits go, and so forth?”

Thorin sighed and covered his eyes, now acutely embarrassed.

“Yessss,” he almost whined . “Thank you very much, it all went fine.”

Dori laughed again and this time he seemed genuinely amused.

“Fine?” he chuckled. “That was the best you both could do? Fine?”

“It was good,” hissed Thorin. “Very good. Pretty amazing, actually.” He stopped then, having surprised himself.

Dori whistled.

“Well, now that’s more like it,” he said cheerfully. “Good on you! Lord knows you’ve needed to get laid for some time now - “

“Is that your opinion as my sponsor,” Thorin asked drily, “or as my friend?”

“Your sponsor _and_ your friend,” was the chipper reply and Thorin rolled his eyes. “You’re wound far too tightly. How do you feel today?”

And just like that Dori put his thumb right on the crux of the whole matter.

“I, ummm…” Thorin hesitated, not even really sure why. It wasn’t as if Dori hadn’t heard every ugly, craven thing about him over the last couple of years. Was this really so hard to confess?

“I’m…” He cleared his throat. “I feel...quite well, actually. He’s…” He stopped again.

“Is this going to be some sort of performance review?” Dori asked. “Because not only am I not sure that’s relevant I’m concerned the fact that _I_ need to get laid may cloud my judgement.”

Laughing, Thorin stood and moved around to the front of his desk, absently shuffling papers around as he chose his words.

“It’s only…” he said and then decided to hell with it.

“Bilbo,” he said. “It’s Bilbo.”

There was a pause and then Dori said, “All right…”

“Only that…” And now he decided to put it out there.

_Half-measures availed us nothing._

_How true,_ thought Thorin. _How fucking true._

“I...still love Bilbo,” he said now, carefully.

_fearless moral inventory_

_fearless_

“We haven’t spoken since that night but...I love him.” Just saying it was...pain and bliss and -

_fearless_

Always,” he said. Admitted. “Always. And until he texted me I don’t know what I thought he felt for me…” He laughed a little, very bitterly. “But I did not believe it was anything good. But now…”

“Now he’s written,” said Dori. “And now you wonder if there is something there to be repaired. If he could possibly _want_ that, after all this time. And so whatever this is with...sorry, I don’t remember - “

_fearless_

“Bofur,” said Thorin, closing his eyes. “It’s Bofur.”

“Whatever this is with Bofur feels a bit like an intrusion on things with Bilbo. It feels...maybe a little wrong. Is that close?”

Thorin nodded and then remembered they were speaking on the phone. “Yes,” he said as calmly as he could. “That’s very close.”

He could almost hear the wheels in Dori’s head turning.

“Have you told Bofur about Bilbo?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Thorin. “He knows what happened.”

“Does he know -

“How I still feel about Bilbo?” Thorin snorted. “No, it seemed poor form to fuck someone and then tell them you’re still in love with your ex.”

“Some might say that was poor form to fuck someone and _be_ in love with your ex, never mind actually telling them,” Dori responded.

Thorin sighed. “Yeah.”

“Look,” Dori said. “You don’t know what is going on with Bilbo. You haven’t spoken and you don’t know how he feels.”

_Means a great deal to me that you’re well._

“I don’t think you’re wrong to pursue an interest in someone else,” Dori continued, “nor do I think it’s wrong for you to be interested in someone else in the first place. It’s been a long time. Give yourself a bit of a break, I say. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

_Well, I’m a terrible person,_ Thorin thought. _Just give me time._

_*_

**Step Six: Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.**

Four days later he sat dutifully sipping coffee at a Sunday morning meeting where everyone was a stranger to him and when the hour was up he headed down to his sister’s house.

Dís looked very well, and Thorin was incredibly happy he'd let himself be talked into coming for brunch. It was very soothing to watch her bustling about, readying things for them and shooing off every effort he made to help her. He was finally relegated to a seat at the breakfast bar, a cup of tea in his hands, to "relax" as she finished up the preparations.

The boys were out in the backyard, and he'd been out with them for quite a while, telling himself he was indulging them with hide and seek and tag when really it was all he ever wanted to do when he visited - spend as much time as he could running and laughing with them. They always put any drama he was feeling into sharp perspective and they served as the best possible reminder of all he had achieved in the last two years. The knowledge that this time with them - this precious, privileged time with them - was possible because of his sobriety.

They'd all three been engaged in a mad tickle/wrestling competition when Dís had poked her head out and asked Thorin to join her inside.

He'd gone slowly and reluctantly, feeling a bit like a naughty kid being sent to the principal's office. Even the boys had regarded him a bit suspiciously, as if he'd done something wrong.

And now here he was, mug in hand, wondering what in the world she wanted to talk to him about.

"So..." she began and he laughed a little.

"What?" she asked, looking over at him from where she was standing at the stove, frowning, stirring the mashed potatoes.

"I've been wondering when you were going to get down to it," he said and she smiled.

"Am I that transparent?" she wondered and he laughed again, relaxing a bit. Whatever it was, it couldn't be that bad if she was so quick to smile.

"As a clean pane of glass," he told her and she snorted.

"Well, you won't be finding many of those around here," she told him. "That really is the most horrible household chore. I would happily wash dishes by hand for hours if someone would come clean my windows."

"Dís - " Thorin interjected but she continued.

"Some of them are so bad you can't even tell what the weather is like outside," she continued and he laughed again.

"It's Southern California," he reminded her. "You don't need clean windows to know it's likely sunny and warm outside."

She joined him in his laughter.

"And that must be why I've never cleaned them," she said as she hefted the pot of potatoes up and over to the sink, shaking her head at him as he rose automatically to help her. He sat back down and watched as she spooned a large amount of them into a serving bowl and then she turned back to him.

"It feels so odd to come right out with it but I need to tell you..." she said and he saw she was nervous, of all things. _Nervous._ He honestly couldn't recall the last time he'd seen her like that.

"Tell me what?" he asked, now nervous as well. "Dís? Tell me what?"

She sighed and then said, "Bilbo called me."

He heard a loud ringing in his ears and his heart stopped, and then began slamming in his chest rather alarmingly.

"He...uhhh..." was all he could manage.

She looked at him sympathetically. "Little over a week ago. It's part of why I pushed you to come over. I mean, of course the boys always want to see you but - "

"Dis." Her name felt almost fuzzy on his tongue. "What did he say?"

She sighed again and looked out the large window over the sink out into the yard.

"He asked after me and the boys," she said after a moment. "Wanted to know if we were well, that sort of thing. Told me he was doing well, too. He's found a new job," and now she looked back at him. "He's teaching at Rivendell now. Seemed pretty pleased about it. And he's moved. He doesn't live...well, in the..." She stopped and looked very uncomfortable.

Thorin felt as if every cell in his body was made of lead. It was like he couldn't even turn his head or let go of his mug.

"Um, yes..." he muttered and then cleared his throat. "I knew he wasn't there anymore. Can you blame him?"

She threw him a look of such pure love and sadness he had to close his eyes against it.

"He didn't mention any of that," she told him gently. "Only that he was living closer to the beach, and closer to Rivendell. Said he had a commute anyone would envy."

Thorin's lips twitched at that. It was the Holy Grail of living where they did - a short commute.

They were both silent for a minute, the question hanging in the air between them.

"He asked after you, too," she said at last. "Said you had been in touch with each other recently," and this was followed by an unspoken _and you didn't tell me about it_ and Thorin winced a little, "and that he had decided rather than asking you about me he would call and ask himself and hoped I didn't mind."

"Did you?" asked Thorin. _"Do_ you?"

"Do _you?"_ she countered.

He shrugged and said, "Dís, you of all people know...I didn't tell you he'd texted - that's what it was, texting - because I feel _so much_ about it I don't even know - "

He cut off as his throat closed up and he swallowed back tears.

She was at his side in an instant and his arms were around her and she was petting his back and he was crying, just a little but definitely crying, and she was saying soothing nonsense words and he wondered if it would be possible to survive this brunch with his dignity intact or if he was destined to weep throughout it. The thought of explaining to Kíli and Fíli exactly _why_ he was crying was both horrifying and hilarious and after a moment of focusing on their imagined confused, embarrassed and quite possibly slightly bored faces he managed to calm himself enough to gently pull away from his sister's embrace and dry his eyes with a paper towel.

"Thorin," she said quietly. "Why do you think he's been reaching out to you, to me even, after all this time?"

He shook his head.

"I can't, Dís," he said. "I can't even consider why."

"Because..." she prompted.

He looked at her.

"I know what I want to think," he said. "But what if I'm wrong?"

*

_See you tonight?_

Thorin looked down Bofur's message and recognized the feeling in his chest.

He was happy.

_I'll be there,_ he wrote back.

Send.

And a moment later -

_And after?_ came the response.

Thorin smiled.

_I'll be there too,_ he wrote back, and then leaned back in his chair.

_Everything is a choice.  Choose to drink, choose not to drink._

_Choose to be happy._

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply and focused on simply being happy.

*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos and taken the time to comment. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's struggles come to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my stars and garters - if anyone is still remotely invested in this story I heartily apologize for taking several SEASONS to continue it!! Please know it will be finished, it's just clearly gonna take me a while, lol!! Hope you enjoy...

That night at the meeting he couldn’t help but be distracted by Bofur, and thoughts of Bofur’s hands on him, his mouth on him…

He sat and listened to those who shared, listened to the reading, but for the life of him he couldn’t stop watching the clock the way he had in junior high, _willing_ the hands to move faster and faster until the bell rang and he was free for another day.

_But Bilbo…_

He clamped that thought down. _Live in this moment,_ he reminded himself firmly. _This man, this moment._ He may feel conflicted, but Dori was right - he was not doing anything wrong. Was he supposed to spend his life pining, hoping, punishing himself?

Was he never going to be allowed anything of his own again?

When the meeting ended he stood and waited as Bofur headed over to him, smiling as the other man stopped to greet, shake hands with, embrace nearly everyone whose path he crossed.

Bilbo had been gregarious too, chatting with supermarket cashiers and waiters and -

_Stop._

He sighed. _It’s not enough that you have to learn to be sober,_ he mused wryly. _You have to relearn everything_ else _too. How to just function and live like a normal person._

_And if this is how normal people live why is it so hard?_

_And why isn't_ everyone _using?_

He smelled Bofur’s cologne before he felt the warmth of his hand on his shoulder. Without any conscious thought he leaned back slightly into the other man and warmth filled his chest as Bofur stepped forward to meet him, his chest solid against Thorin’s back. Thorin smiled and blushed a little as Bofur leaned even closer and whispered, “Feel pretty tedious tonight to anyone besides me?” right into Thorin’s ear, his whiskers tickling Thorin’s neck deliciously and his breath sending sparks right down to his toes.

He nodded and leaned forward, turning to look at Bofur and smiling more widely. “It’s as if you can read my mind,” he murmured and Bofur laughed quietly. “Keep looking at me like that and we’ll cause quite a scene here at the First Methodist Church,” he murmured back, reaching out to grasp Thorin’s hand. Thorin squeezed it tightly, relishing the strength of it before he let it go reluctantly. “Your place all right again?” he asked. “Mine is further away and - “ “Say no more,” Bofur interrupted, grinning. “The sooner the better, as far as I’m concerned. I’ve been thinking about the after all day.”

That made Thorin laugh and _Jesus_ did that feel good. He felt as if he could conquer a dragon.

“Me too,” he admitted as they left the church and headed for the small parking lot. “Me, too.”

*

It was rather extraordinary, falling for someone with whom he shared such an intimate thing.

He had never been with another addict before, someone who utterly understood what it was to pretend and deny and lurk and wait and parcel their hits in such a way as to look appropriate. And then, when the inevitable happened and the depth of the issue became known, someone who knew what it was to be the _other,_ the cause for concern, the one who was broken.

The one who was broken.

That was the crux, wasn't it? Thorin had always felt broken, _wrong_ , especially when compared to Bilbo, for whom life seemed so easy and natural. Bilbo never seemed to struggle with uncertainty, with feelings of unworthiness. He was so comfortable in his own skin, so happy with who he was and where life had brought him and now that Thorin had the perspective that sober living brought he could see that how often he'd been bitterly jealous of his former partner, how his drinking had sprung so largely from attempts to silence the critical voices that nattered continuously in his head and made life without using so impossible back then.

Hell, those goddamn voices made living without booze nearly impossible _now._ Why did no one really tell you that part of why you probably loved to drink so much was to silence all that criticism, to drown it under wine and whisky and far too many beers? Sobriety had brought those voices shrieking to the forefront and Thorin had spent many a white-knuckled night staving them off with coffee, cold showers and reruns, all poor substitutes for the alcohol his body cried out for.

But anything important takes practice, as his mother had always said, and now with Bofur he was able to truly relax and just be. Finally someone knew that pain, felt that hardship, had walked in those shoes. Finally Thorin could be his real self with someone. There was no need to hide, to be coy, to look more attractive to a normal person. Bofur had seen it all, had lived it all. They were... _authentic_ with each other.

That they both liked the Indigo Girls was a very pleasant surprise. That Bofur was also a fan of Elmore Leonard and Italian food, two of Thorin's most favorite things, was even more thrilling, but what really tipped things and made him realize he was getting in quite deep was discovering that even though he'd never been a fan of the Godfather movies, he was perfectly content to curl up with Bofur and watch the first one for what was easily Bofur's one hundredth time. He was content because it didn't matter that he didn't like the film. He liked _Bofur._ A lot. That was what mattered.

*

**Step 7: Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings**.

They were in bed when the topic was finally broached. The lovemaking had been slow and easy, full of comfort and a languid sensuality and Thorin lay stretched out across the bed, his leg thrown casually over Bofur’s and their fingers laced together, sweat and stickiness drying on their skin.

He felt hands carding through his hair and he smiled, bringing Bofur’s fingers to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to them, rubbing them soothingly with his thumb and nuzzling the strong knuckles and calloused fingertips.

“How long were you together?”

Thorin blinked.

“How long…?” he repeated, confused, and then it hit him.

They were silent for a moment and then Thorin inhaled deeply.

“Almost four years,” he said.

He heard a sharp intake of breath and when he tried to resume his caresses Bofur pulled his hand away.

That hurt more than Thorin could have imagined.

He rolled over onto his side and propped his head up on his elbow, looking up at Bofur, who still lay on his back. Tentatively, he reached a hand out to touch Bofur’s arm and when it too was not pulled away he began to run his hand up and down it a bit, waiting for Bofur to speak. Then finally -

“Four years is a long time,” Bofur said quietly, still not looking at Thorin.

Thorin sighed and leaned back, his gaze on the ceiling.

“It is,” he agreed. “A long time.”

*

_Checking in again. Beautiful day, right?_

Thorin looked at the words. Read the words. Over and over.

And then he looked out the window.

He watched as a young woman in a bright, billowy dress walked her dog across the street. Watched as two men, dressed similarly to him, stood talking in front of the Starbucks. Watched the cars stop at the light, wait, and then start again, heading for who knew where.

_Who knows? Who ever knows?_

He swiveled back around and scooped up his phone, hardly hesitating at all as he tapped out _It is indeed. Reminds me of you._

Send.

Who ever knows?

_Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings._

_Christ,_ thought Thorin wryly. _If He removed all of_ those _there'd be nothing left. I'd collapse like a pile of ash._

He watched as Bilbo's reply came back in.

_That's sweet. I'm thinking of you too. xo_

His mouth felt so dry.

He licked his lips and looked out his window again. The men were gone but the woman was still there, now sitting in front of the Starbucks sipping something through a straw while the dog relaxed in the shade.

And the cars stopped, waited and went.

And he knew that now he was definitely doing something wrong.

*

The weeks passed, and since Thorin still didn’t know what to do he did nothing, and he and Bofur grew closer.

He had never experienced such an easy rapport with anyone, including Bilbo. That relationship had been very fraught - with all the drama that comes with being an alcoholic and the child of an alcoholic.

“Did you do Al-Anon first?”

Thorin looked up from his laptop.

Bofur was curled up in the large leather recliner, his readers resting on his head and a magazine balanced on his lap, looking steadily at him.

“Did I - “

“Al-Anon. Because of your dad.”

Thorin stiffened and then sighed, shaking his head.

“I’m sure it would have helped,” he said. “But no. Between drinking and controlling my drinking I never got around to it.”

Bofur smiled.

“I found it almost harder than AA,” he admitted. “It’s like - with AA you clearly have a problem. You’re an addict, right? Al-Anon always felt...like an excuse I suppose?” He snorted and waved his hand at Thorin who’d begun to protest. “I know that’s so fucking foolish and it’s not how I feel now, but when I was drinking it always felt as if I should just be able to get over myself. Why did I need to go talk to a bunch of other people who’d had shitty families, too? So we could all complain about how we felt anxious, our constant need for approval?”

Thorin swallowed hard.

Bofur leaned in and grasped his hand.

“How we can never relax?” he said softly. “How we deny and deny and avoid conflict and are terrified of abandonment?”

Tears stung Thorin’s eyes and he squeezed them shut abruptly, the sound of Bofur's voice rolling over him softly.

“How we can be so afraid to be intimate, truly intimate, because it means we’ve lost control?”

It was quiet for a moment, only the sound of them breathing, Thorin’s breath hitching a little.

_remove our shortcomings remove our shortcomings_

“I’m not naive,” Bofur said now, “and I won't play games with you. I’ve been thinking about what you said a few weeks back - about your ex, about your time together. And I think I know how all this works.”

“All _what?_ ” Thorin asked, looking up and wiping his eyes a bit.  “What are we even talking about?”

Bofur pulled his hand away and sighed, sitting back a bit, cracking his knuckles absently and not looking at Thorin.

“I’ve jumped off the cliff here,” he said, still looking down, “and I have a terrible feeling you’re still standing up there as I fall.”

“As you - ?” Thorin paused for a moment.  “Bofur, what are you - “

“What’s his name?”

Thorin hesitated briefly and then - “Bilbo.”

Bofur weighed that in the silence.

“And how do you feel about Bilbo now?” he asked quietly. “Or would I rather not know?”

Thorin imagined he could feel the blood pulsing through his body, feel his heart knock in his chest.

And then he said, “I still love him.”

Bofur exhaled loudly and sat forward in the chair, hunching over a bit and covering his eyes with his hand.

“So is that it then?” he asked hoarsely. “I was just someone to keep time with until you can convince him to come back?”

Thorin’s tongue felt thick and awkward in his mouth and his throat dried up as he opened his mouth to speak. He closed his eyes and shook his head, no longer even knowing what he wanted to say.

He felt the bed shift as Bofur rose and he heard rustling and the clink of a belt buckle as Bofur presumably pulled his clothes on. He couldn’t open his eyes.

Just... _couldn’t._

Finally it was silent again. He could hear Bofur breathing. Opening his eyes felt absolutely terrifying.

The other man stood there watching him and the worst part for Thorin was that he seemed not angry, but rather...broken. Defeated. It was like nothing he had ever seen in Bofur’s eyes before.

And then he said, “You love him and I love you. I’d say that leaves us both pretty fucked.”

He turned to go and then stopped and said, without turning around, “I wish you all the luck in the world. I really do. I hope - “ His voice cracked a little and he stopped, and then said thickly, “I hope you find your way back to each other.”

And then he was gone.

Thorin sat staring for a long while and then he threw back his head and howled. The urge to drink was a white hot flame licking at his feet, his legs, his hips, his belly, his heart.

He curled in on himself and wept until he fell asleep.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo reenters Thorin's life.

**Step 8: Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.**

_Would you be interested in talking?_

His mouth went dry and it felt as if his eyes were bulging out of his head.

_Wha -_ he thought dumbly. _Interested in...How -_

His phone blipped again.

_On phone, I mean_

Hot shame washed over him. Of _course_ he didn’t want to meet in person. Who would willingly want to meet with someone who’d...who’d tried to…

Another blip.

_It’s all right if you don’t of course._

_How like Bilbo to rush to make sure I’m taken care of,_ he thought a bit wildly. _That I don’t feel pressured or -_

Blip.

_Let me know what you think. B._

He stretched a shaking hand out and plucked his phone up off the desk.

_I would very much like to talk to you,_ he wrote back. _When is a good time?_

Send.

He couldn’t look away from his phone.

And then an image of Bofur rose up behind his eyes, smiling widely, his eyes warm and open and that stupid hat on his head.

_Oh, Bofur…_

He was still staring at his phone when Bilbo’s response came through.

_How about now?_

Thorin’s heart began slamming alarmingly fast in his chest.

He started to respond, and then he just set down his mobile and picked up his office phone.

He could still dial the number from memory.

*

“Thorin.”

He couldn’t help it. This was all happening so fast and he had made his peace with _never ever never_ hearing his voice again and it was all too much. Just... _too much_.

He began to sob and whatever he was going to say was lost in an avalanche of emotion.

He held the receiver away from his face a bit, embarrassed and ashamed at his lack of control.

“Thorin?” Bilbo’s voice was tinny and far away but the concern was palpable.

“I - “ Thorin choked out before a fresh wash of tears rose up. He blindly swept across his desk looking for the goddamn tissues he knew were there, finally finding them and wiping his eyes and his nose.

“Oh, Thorin,” Bilbo said, his voice impossibly gentle, and that voice, that dear dear voice in his ear again. How was this happening? How was any of this possible?

“Please don’t cry,” Bilbo was saying but it was as if Thorin had saved up a lifetime of tears and they were all choosing this precise moment to escape. He couldn’t stop and continued to hold the phone away from his face as he began to “ugly cry”, as Dís called it, his sobs growing harsher and louder.

“Bilbo…” he finally managed and then he was gasping again, pressing the back of his hand hard against his eyes, trying fruitlessly to stem the flow of his tears.

“I’m here,” came the quiet response. “Don’t worry, Thorin. I’m still here.”

*

It took several moments, him gasping and sniffling and Bilbo calmly soothing, but Thorin finally calmed himself enough to speak.

“Are you...is it - “ he started nonsensically and then stopped. He was so utterly upended he couldn’t decide what to ask first.

Bilbo laughed softly and the sound of it washed over Thorin, warming him and slipping into all the pinpricks in his heart. He sighed a little and then felt his face flush in embarrassment.

Bilbo laughed again and this time Thorin joined him.

“Heard that, did you?” he asked and Bilbo hummed in agreement.

“S’all right,” Thorin murmured. “No point in pretending I’m not totally turned inside out by this.”

He paused and breathed deeply, in through his nose and out through his mouth, the way he had learned in the mandated anger management classes. He’d been reluctant about the whole thing at the time but the truth was some of that foolish shit really did work...and that breathing thing was one of them.

Bilbo had still not spoken by the time he was done breathing so Thorin said simply, “How are you?”

He heard Bilbo clear his throat and the thunk of what he suspected was a tea mug being set down on a table, unless Bilbo had dropped that particular habit.

An image of Bilbo sitting at their kitchen table rose up in his mind, his feet curled under him as he sat cross-legged on the chair, whatever he was reading (and he was always reading something) reflected in his glasses, the tip of his tongue poking out just a tiny, tiny bit between his lips as he concentrated…

He turned his thoughts away from all that, suddenly feeling as if he might begin to cry again.

“Good,” came the reply after a pause. “I’m...well, I’m good. I ummm…” There was a hesitant pause and then - “I spoke with Dís. Last week, I think…?” His voice trailed off and there was a very clear diffident note to it that rang false and forced to him and Thorin knew damn well Bilbo remembered _exactly_ when he had made that phone call and spoken to his sister. Bilbo had always remembered everything. 

“Anyway,” Bilbo went on and Thorin tried so hard to concentrate on what he was saying. “Anyway, I am well, thank you for asking. New job, although I’m sure Dís told you - “

Thorin made a small affirming noise.

“And a new apartment - “ and here Bilbo trailed off again, as if worried Thorin might be upset or take offense he no longer lived in the home where Thorin had choked him and broken his arm.

Always so worried Thorin would be upset by this, that and the other. And, well - that fear had proved to be well-founded, hadn’t it?

“Lovely place,” Bilbo continued after a moment. “Has a rather large deck too. Been lovely to garden again...after a fashion, I mean.” And he laughed a little, self-deprecating as always, and Thorin wanted to laugh with him because it seemed that was what BILBO wanted, to defuse the terrible, awkward tension between them, but he couldn’t. He needed to reap what he had sown so horrifyingly all those months ago.

Reap what he had sown.

“Bilbo,” he said suddenly and the chuckling stopped suddenly. “Bilbo, I need to...or rather I _want_ to - “

**Step nine: Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.**

“Thorin,” Bilbo said softly and Thorin’s soul felt scraped raw, hearing that voice, that kind loving voice.

“No, please,” he managed. “Please. I’ve wanted to say this for so long...and I was so afraid…”

Bilbo made a small noise and Thorin hurried on, before that noise could worm its way into his heart even further.

“I was afraid to reach out to you,” he said, more firmly. “I’ve spent so long being so ashamed and wanting to just...avoid and...and forget everything.” He took a breath and Bilbo was silent, waiting. “But that’s not fair to you. You deserve an apology from me.”

“Thorin, I know - “ Bilbo started but Thorin interrupted him.

“Please? Bilbo, please - this is so difficult and I have thought on it so much, what I would say when we talked, _if_ we talked, and now it’s here and I wasn’t prepared but I’m ready, God, I’m so _ready_ to tell you how sorry I am,” and now he was weeping again but he leaned into the feelings, letting them wash over him, fighting the urge to slam down the phone and hide hide hide in the nearest drink he could find. He tried to calm himself and _feel_ the feelings, _feel_ what he had always been so terrified by. “I’m so sorry for what I did to you. That night and our whole time together.”

He had to stop and mop his eyes again and take a deep breath. His voice kept catching in his throat and his eyes burned. _Take it all in,_ he told himself sternly. _This is what normal people do. They experience life. They feel things. Don’t turn away from it. This is your_ life _and it will only happen once. You only get to tell him this once. Don’t let fear fuck it up._

He heard Bilbo inhale as if to speak and he guttered out, “Wait. Not...not yet. Please. I just - “ He breathed in again and let it out in a whoosh. “I am sorry I put my hands on you in anger. If I live to be a thousand years old I will never regret anything more. I am sorry I hurt you so badly...and believe me, I know that may have been the only time I was physical but we both know good and goddamn well that is not the only time I hurt you during our life...:” He swallowed hard. “Our life together and I am...so, so sorry.”

They breathed together for a moment and then Bilbo said, “Thorin. I accept your apology. And I forgive you.”

Light burst behind his eyes as he closed them, feeling faint, feeling as if his blood was on fire. A raging, freeing rush of heat crashed through him, strongly enough to make him gasp. He covered his eyes with his hand and tried to catch his breath.

“Thorin?” Bilbo sounded as if he was light-years away, the fire-blood hammering in his ears so loudly he could barely hear what the other man was saying.

_forgive forgive forgive forgive._

“Bilbo,” he sighed and the other man inhaled sharply over the phone. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Another long pause.

And then - “Thorin. I love you.”

The words hung in the air, everything around them stilling.

“Bilbo,” said Thorin. “Oh, my dear, sweet Bilbo. I love you too.”

*

It took him thirty seven minutes to drive to the new apartment.

*

It took much longer than that before they fell asleep.

*

The smell was what he noticed first. Ivory soap and dryer sheets.

He cracked one eye open and warmth flooded his chest, so much he thought it might burst.

Bilbo lay curled up, facing him, sound asleep with his mouth open just a little bit, his breathing audible without actually being a snore. One hand was tucked up at his chest and the other...oh, the other was stretched out and tangled in Thorin’s hair. He could see and feel it there, tugging a bit when he shifted around to pull himself closer, reaching a hand out himself to brush Bilbo’s curls off his face. This close he could see the smattering of freckles on his cheeks and nose, and on his chest, a slight and gentle counterpoint to his otherwise creamy and very light skin.

_He looks so young,_ Thorin mused. _Always so young when he’s sleeping, and so beautiful. Like a Bottecelli, or a Raphael. Lit from within and otherworldly, strangely peaceful._

He could watch him sleep all day. Had _missed_ watching him sleep all day. Had missed so _much._ It all felt as fragile as a spider web, and as much as he burned for it all he was terrified one wrong move, one simple flick of his wrist and everything would be destroyed. The whole house of cards that this surely was would come tumbling down and it would be worse than it had been the first time. The first time he’d had no hope. Now he was on fire with it.

_But Bofur_ \- a voice chimed in his head, soft but insistent for all its softness.

He sighed and pulled himself even closer to Bilbo.

_I can’t -_ he told himself sternly. _Not right now. Please. Just...let me have this, if only for a tiny while...please._

_But -_

_No._

The voice fell silent.

Thorin smoothed unruly curls again, and wished for a world where he’d never taken a drink.

*

He sat at the neat and tidy table in the kitchen, watching Bilbo as he made them breakfast.

He had lost weight, Thorin noted. It did not look well on him. His frame was meant to be...full. Soft, cuddly even. The Bilbo making him eggs was full of sharper edges, leaner and more gaunt than before, and again Thorin felt a sharp stab of pain and guilt in his chest as he considered his likely role in that.

Bilbo picked that exact moment to glance over his shoulder and, too thin or no, his face lit up and nearly stopped Thorin’s heart. _There will just never be anything like that sight,_ he thought to himself as he returned Bilbo’s warm smile and continued watching as the other man turned around to mind the eggs. _Nothing in the world can rival a smile from Bilbo._

_There is one thing_ , his mind whispered and it was as sobering as a slap.

He lowered his head and shook it slowly, trying to focus on the moment he was in.

He looked up and caught Bilbo frowning at him.

“What is it?” he asked and Thorin sighed.

“Can we…? I don’t…” He sighed again as Bilbo’s expression tightened. “Only, I want to be here with you, with nothing between us.” He glanced down at his hands and then said, “I never thought I would see you again, much less…” He hesitated a bit and looked up.

Bilbo was watching him carefully, having turned the stovetop flame off.

He cleared his throat and then said, “Much less... _be_ with you again. Is it so awful of me to just want it to be us, if only for a little while?”

Bilbo was silent for a moment and Thorin waited.

And then a smile, that _smile,_ blossomed across his face and something in Thorin’s chest loosened. He thought he could fly.

Bilbo was radiant.

“If it’s awful then we’re both shameful,” he said now, softly. “Because I want to stay here alone with you for as long as you’ll agree to.”

*

 


End file.
